Through her eyes
by NordicAutobotGirl
Summary: Between 07 and ROTF: Optimus Prime becomes an eyewitness to a brutal murder about a family and the only survivor is a barely 7 year old girl. But there is a problem. The girl is autistic and doesn't speak anything. How can he handle it? Many challanges and dark forces are lurking before him as he got to solve the case before the killer strikes again. Rated for many reasons
1. Eyewitness

I need to get this thing out from my mind before Kajsa goes crazy. All inspiration is from Åsa Larsson's crime novels and her latest - _**The Sacrifice to Molok.**_ Everything is happening through Optimus POV. Warning for brutal murder scene and a lot of blood here. Dark themes, violence and strong language will be involved in future chapters. Extra thanks to Haloangel21 for helping me with ideas and the title.

* * *

**Chapter 1 – Eyewitness**

**12****th**** January 2008**

Complex darkness and silence surrounded me in out of nowhere.

_Has the time really passed so fast?, _I thought amazed as I get the first experience of the winter darkness in middle of winter. My first winter here on Earth and many more yet to come.

It has been months since we Autobots arrived here on Earth to prevent the Decepticons finding the Allspark. Still I can remember it as all just have happen yesterday. The battle against Megatron in the human city and the destruction of the Allspark and more than that. Not only it destroyed Megatron but it did also destroy our last chances to rebuild our home again. That reminded me so much over since then.

Cybertron… out there beyond outer space lays our home in ruins for eons. Even if Earth is our new home now I deeply miss our old home, as the past gets reminding once again.

I was out on a snowy road all alone, driving through the dense forest areas in the northern areas of New York State. Clear midnight sky; full with stars as the crescent moon rises higher. Snow lay heavy like a white reflecting and covering layer on the ground. The frost bitten leaf trees stood freezing a lot without their leaves, unlike the snowy conifer trees with their heavy branches. The white frosted branches reminded spooky like sharpen hands sticking over me, and wanting so badly to scratch over me like frost claws.

I don't fear the darkness... Still I cannot help myself feel the ominous feeling that tells me something will happen in this darkness.

A hooting sound echoed through the forest. It came from an Earth bird that hunts in night time; an owl the humans call for it. Listening on the hooting sound was unfamiliar to me, sounded ominous and mystical. Like a whisper through the darkness as the owl was the messenger of the forests. The air touches me with its freezing hands and feeling them slide over me.

At least I feel not bothered by the environment around me. I can adapt the conditions here on Earth, but it will take its time until I know it for certain. I kept holding the same speed because the snowy ice below felt slippery, and my wheels glides over without any grip to hold. I started getting tired and exhausted after driving in many hours without a single stop for many miles.

How long time has I been driving since I left the headquarters? Days? Weeks? Or even a month? I have no idea.

_Hope there is human town nearby, _I thought awkward. Daring thinking if I got unlucky I have no other choice but stop here now in this freezing environment. _I would not tolerate it, recharging here and then freeze up._

The heat from my engine had kept me warm the whole way but now I started getting cold. It took not long before I find out where the cold feeling comes from; Frost. White frost biting on the edges of my truck form, the frozen biting spread out more like unpleased shivers through my nerve cables. Shrugs escaped from my engine as I found myself uncomfortable in this situation.

When I thought things is not going turn to worse the first snowflakes fall down in fast rate. The sky got cloaked by thick clouds and hiding away the moon. The snowflakes remind like small, glittering crystals. Dancing and twisting in the wind turbulence, blinded me white as I drive through the unexpected snowstorm.

"Slag. Hope I find a shelter soon or later," I said through the radio as I let a almost silent groan escape, the frost biting began eating on my steel. "Or else I'll freeze up. Better in a human town, than out here in nowhere…"

* * *

"Finally…" I sighed in relief and very exhausted.

I arrived on a small town at last after two hours. It seems to be a sleepy town by looking those small and old buildings, sensing the lonely air and hearing the complex silence. The heavy snow brightened more as it reflected by the orange street lights, the whole sky above got orange. The snow continued falling down now as large and smooth puffs in endless fall. I drive in in calm position and making sure I don't disturbing the deep sleeping people. It took not long before I found a great place to stay for the night.

Nearby the center of the town, after passing by a church, I found a parking large enough for me. Only three cars buried in snow stood there. I placed near the middle and stopped the engine as my first thing to do. But as I did, the cold shriving spread deeper within me and eats more hungrily. Which it forced me realize I had terrible wrong.

This is far colder than I've experienced before! I wonder how the humans are capable to resist against the extreme conditions here. Humanity is clearly complex in different ways for us, comparing for we for them in our ways. The snow lay on, building the first layer as I was about to fall fast recharge when...

Wait a minute. What did I just saw?

I thought I'd saw something in the dark. What was it? Suddenly I saw it; A figure walking through in the dark as it avoids the lights through the falling snow like unnoticed. It seems haven't seen me or doesn't know my arrival, and walking like a shadow. The figure walked with rashly legs as snow throwing up by the movements. The figure was pitching black; camouflaged in the dark as it keep avoiding.

Although I can see it walk on two legs so it must be a human for certain. As I observed the figure my spark suddenly began to pulse up. Awaken up a feeling within my spark, and warning me for something horrible when I saw the figure disappear from my sight.

"Where are you going?" I whispered after a moment. The feeling started to grow faster and more unpredictable. My spark reacted by it; pulsing in faster rate and warming me up so the frost melt away from the edges. Something from within tells me I must do something. But I can't simple as easy reveal myself – My _true _self. I must stay on my place. It is too risky to do –

_**BANG!**_

Suddenly a shoot was heard. It echoed from far distance which triggered my systems alert. It sounded coming from a small weapon like a gun or pistol what I can hear. Then, it took only matter of seconds before desperate screams captured my audio sensors. It comes from a human, a female.

Without thinking and my instincts reacted, I activated my hologram and jumped out. My hologram has the appearance of a well-trained man in his forties; aearing a leather jacket, pair of leather pants and boots. The face with those sky-blue eyes had facial hair in white and brown, the neck long hair share the brown color and flapped in the air.

The thing I did was to run. Running across the street to the place there the scream came.

The freezing air hit my air tanks harsh, harden my skin up in shivers and my breaths come out visible as steam. It hurts just to take a single breath as it freeze and beats inside. The snowflakes make it difficult for me to see; landing on my face and forcing me to tighten my optics narrow. The snow below my feet is soft but beneath icy and that makes it slippery. Despite the risk to slip over and harm myself, I kept running and ignoring the risks.

By then more shoots come and more screams echoed behind walls catches my audio sensors. I felt how my spark pulsed like crazy under my throat and pumping all adrenaline through my vein system. The cold eat through my limps biting and chowing in hunger.

It can have taken not long before I reached a nearby house through the streets; an old and white house in wood with large windows. There I saw the figure. It leaves the place and ran away, but not before it made a look back to see me running.

"HEY!" I yelled as I ran faster, wanting so badly to catch him. But by then the figure was already gone. Consumed in the darkness and I was already too late, missed the chance to catch him.

I slow down my legs, panted heavily after running so long in short time. The air hurts even more. My unprotected hands shook much along with shaking teeth that hurts my jaw much. Then I lay focus on the house and turning my optics on it. What have the figure done? Fear awakes up within my spark. I hurried to the door. But when I laid my hand on the knob it turns out to be still locked.

I then make a quick look on the windows when I found something shocking; none of them at front side are broken. I then started to run around the house searching after any sigh of broken windows, without any results. There was not a single trace behind.

_How can they still be intact?, _I thought without a clue. _How can he get out without breaking – wait a minute… how did he get in and then out so quickly?_

My spark pulsed more intensive, begging me to get in there as fast as possible. As my spark begged out, so screamed my fear too. Telling me that I must be prepared for the worst. I return back to the door and started to slam and kick against it as hard I can. It resisted for several moments before the door finally give up by a final kick from me as I slammed it up and run in.

Inside, it was so dark that there is no way for the human eye to see. The air inside was even colder than outside and it stanch horrible inside.

"Hey! Is anyone here alive?!" I yelled without response, facing a dreadful silence that forces the house holding its frightened breath. I check every corner of my head and breathes heavy in fast rate as I sharpen my sensors up. With the ability to see through darkness inside my optics I saw it was a narrow passage ahead of me.

I take very slow movements on my legs and taking tensed breaths through the narrow passage. Lights ripped through before me. A room lay before me, another room to right. Must the kitchen ahead and the living room which I passed by. Then without warning a scent touches my olfactory sensor. I recognize the scent; organic blood. The scent swept in the air around me as it gives me a warning. A horrible warning of what lays before me.

I took a deep breath and stepped in the kitchen and then laid my hand on the switch to the ceiling lamp. When the light goes on I face the true horror front of my optics as my spark jumped up:

On the floor lays a teen girl lifeless in blood bath with a large blood spot on her abdominal area. A second victim sat leaned back against the stove and long drag marks on the floor in blood. A pale skinned woman in her gray nightdress. The woman must be a carrier to the teen.

She was completely covered in blood all over her stabbed body, her nightdress very ripped. A knife stuck below on her chest, through the heart. Her head lay leaned down on right side, unblinking and empty eyes on her oval shaped face with the lightly brown and long hair.

The teen holds her empty gaze at me, so young with her beautiful oval shaped face like her carrier. Blood flow down from nose and mouth. She wears night suit and pants on, appears to between sixteen and seventeen in age; her body pretty curved and long dark hair in her blood.

I nearly collapsed in shock. I had to walk backwards, touch the wall behind my back and glide down on the floor. I had my optics on the bodies unblinking and widen, so shocked and so affected. I have seen deaths many times before, as well seen horrible and tragic things but this… This is nothing I have seen. Unstable breaths get in and out from me. Nearly hold one breath for a long moment until I must let it out.

"In the name of Primus…" said I under my holding breaths, "How could someone… be so cruel like this?"

It took several minutes for me to recover from my shock when I realized. There must be other humans living here, either victims…or survivors. I slowly rose up on my legs, left the kitchen and saw the stairs up. Immediately I ran upstairs and began my search. Deeply within my spark I begged to Primus.

_Please Primus. Let it be a spared life._

The first room had not much; just a double bed and large wardrobe. The second room had one bed, a small wardrobe and desk with chair. It was very messy with cloths, tools and comics spread out on the floor. The third one was the bath room.

But when I get in the last one I found a third victim lying on the floor in blood bath. Stabbing wounds on the shoulders and a massive cut injure at left shoulder, but it was not the worst part. The left hand is missing, been cut off from the body. The room has two beds with a cabinet between them. The blankets covered in blood like daggers spilled out.

The victim was half naked, wearing only sweatpants. I hurried to the body, moved it up so the body lay on the back. It was a boy; appears to be between fourteen and fifteen in age. Long, thin body and a lot of muscles; he must be very active one. He share his carrier's face, has long and dark blonde hair and his brown eyes so beautiful… those _lifeless_ eyes that glared up without ever blinking. I sighed out and laid a hand over his eyes and closed them.

"May Primus take you and your family in his arms…" I prayed in a whisper, held my optics on the young boy.

After several moments I continued my search. Every corner, every room, every wardrobe, every bed, everything! But I found nothing. Still I refused to give up so I kept searching for any clue and anybody that can be still alive. It can have taken less ten minutes before I had to face reality. It was nothing I can do. I came too late for everyone in this family, and to prevent the brutal killing and save any of their lives.

My spark sank down heavy below my chest as I go downstairs and then hurries out to call for help. But when I reached the slammed door, I heard suddenly something which forced me stop dead on my tracks.

"Who's there?" I asked, listening after the quiet sound. The sound interpreted as tiny steps, walking downstairs very gently. I slowly turn around, making no rush in my movements when I noticed a small figure standing before me.

It was a human child, a girl. Emotions exploded up within my spark when I saw the small rounded face, and those large eyes hidden behind the pointy hair locks.

"Little one… Are you all right?" I asked very softly, walking rush legs towards her. She response nothing back. _She cannot be older than seven in age,_ I then thought.

She wears a nightdress large compare to her tiny body, thin limps and tiny hands. She has half long and half curly hair, black like the wings of a raven with grace. She looks so vulnerable… and so fragile. She seems not be hurt what I can see. However when I approach her, she instantly lay her eyes down to the floor with a hanging head. I kneel down gently. Both my hands lay on her shoulders, holding them still.

"Little one, look at me…" I speak calm to her. No response came from her as I repeated the words. "Look at me. Look at me… little one, look at me."

I low my head down to catch eye contact. But as I did, she instantly moved her eyes by turning her face away. She keeps doing this five times. I then lay my left hand on her cheek, which without any warning she reacted on the touch. Tensed up her body, loudly and very tensed breaths through her nose as the girl rise up her right hand and slammed at my face. Instantly I grab her hand.

"Stop it." I said calm, avoiding to raise my voice when she rise the other left hand and slammed again. She hit against my shoulder with hard punches five times. Cathcing the other hand I hold them tight away from me. The girl then swinged her hanging head in desperate swings, swinging left and right fast so her cheeks hit her axels. No word in protest; only small moaning sounds behind closed mouth.

Why does she act like this?

_She must be in shock condition, _I thought confused and trying thinking what to do in safe way. I release my grips from her and wrapped my arms around her, and pulling her close to me. "Don't be afraid, my child. I will not leave you here. I will not."

There she stopped the head movements. Although the tension in her body increased and raising stress level told me enough. She's frightened. "It's going be all right little one." I continued, caressing her back with soft movements.

Again she reacted the movements, however this time she didn't fight back. I make slow rocking movements and comforting her. I then rise up on my legs, carrying the child up when she suddenly began to kick, shaking her whole body like she got obsessed in try to escape from my arms. Kicking harder she got lucky to get her right arm free and beat back.

Then she screamed out. A spark-ripping scream, tearing through me like nothing I have ever heard before. It was painful to hear her scream; it was so loud that I thought on that moment I got deaf. I tried holding her tightly while she rapidly hit me with her beating, kicking and screaming. She swinged her head right and left, holding her closed eyes tight while screaming wordlessly. I laid a hand behind her head, trying to whisper in her ear in one try to calm her down.

"Shooo, easy my child, shoo," I cooed, "It's going be all right. It's going be all right."

But she wasn't listening. She kept doing this for less than five minutes. Eventually her limps fell heavy for her and her screams died to sobbing sounds. The girl buried her head in my chest and wept. All this time I stood up on my legs and now they suddenly feel so heavy that I fell down on my knees. The police didn't arrive until five minutes later.

* * *

Ah… done. I just want to say an important thing: I troubled with the idea to make this thing and suffered by anxiety for some time ago. I had my biggest fears and concerns until I've revealed it for three people, even if it started chaotic at start for one person: Haloangel21, Alovefororcas and Auditoresgirl. I really want say thank you for encourage me. I hope what you like and enjoyed so far.

PS: I had Trond Espen Seim, the Norwegian actor as idea model to Optimus Prime's hologram on appearance only. For you thinking why then that's easy to explain: I just want make him looks twice younger than he appears in robot mode. I know… I'm so typical who prefers Scandinavian actors over American ones.


	2. Interrogation

*Sighs* I apologize for the delay for personal reasons but finally it has arrived. Now let's see what happens next with Optimus and the child while they're in the police station.

* * *

**Chapter 2 – Interrogation**

_**And morning came, and evening came, the first day**_

The first thing that woke me up was my hurting back. Aching and cracking after I'd rest on solid floor and moved side to side restlessly all the time during my recharge. The pain goes worse as I tried rise up and spread out over my back, shoulders and aft. The first thing I did was lay my gaze on the child and found her still in deep recharge. The tangles and clumps on her hair looked to be dry. Most likely she haven't brush her hair for a long time, or maybe taken a bath at all. The room was simple with pale white walls, a small window on the left wall and the bed as the only furniture. The weather outside was clear as the snow glittered by the rising winter sun.

I felt terribly sick inside with a sourly taste in my throat while looking through the window. Questions twisted impatiently for answers inside my processor. So many of them at same time and so little time that I have no idea how to solve each one of them, or how long time it will take for every each.

What could I've done? Why didn't I run after the perpetrator after all? Why never run after that cruel, evil, grim human so I'd could capture and bring him to justice?! What kind of mech am I?!

_How did you escape from the perpetrator,_ I thought while watching over her face, and can't help myself holding my gaze on her as I sat next to her on the bed. Laying my hand on her forehead and stroked over her scalp gently.

There were questions that bugged me a lot the whole night. Her behavior; why did she act that and why won't she speak? I've never encountered a human behavior like that before since my arrival. In fact, I have no idea of if it is common or _uncommon_ human behavior. So many questions that needed to be answered, and I have none of the answers in my hands.

I yawned horribly tired when my attention got captured by a knock from the door. After the police arrived on the place, we hurried to the town's police station and got a room to stay until the morning dawns.

I rose up from the bed when the door open up, held by a female uniformed policeman, and a male human stepped in. He appeared old; I guess he's in middle of his fifties. He's wearing a black winter coat with the black-and-blue striped scarf around his neck, a pair of black jeans and winter boots. The face manly square shaped with visible wrinkles and short trimmed half-silver, half-brown hair. His gaze very experienced as he observed me.

"Are you an investigator?" I asked him, reading on his face. He nodded as we shook our hands, his eyes were dark brown.

"Detective chief inspector Wayne Robinson," he replied with a calm tone of voice. "And your name is?"

"Peter Oldfield." I said my 'human' name, and then returned my attention back on the girl. Feeling surprisingly relieved when I found her still in recharge. The inspector also appeared relieved as he make a quick look on her before fixing his eyes on me.

"Come, Mr. Oldfield. It's time for your interrogation." He made a hand gesture that says _Follow me_. We left the room but not before I make a last look over my shoulder to her.

* * *

It took not long before we were on the bottom floor of the station. Walking through the corridors and passing by four cells at left wall as Wayne guided me to the interview room. The air inside felt isolated like a holding breath that had been hold for a long time. This room has a table with two chairs on either side, the walls made in solid pale gray concrete and weak lights from the neon lights up on the ceiling.

I sat down on and Wayne on the opposite side of the table. But before sitting down he put his hand in the right pocket and pick up a tape recorder, which he then laid it on the table and switched on.

"Interview with the only eyewitness Peter Oldfield starts at 09:00 a.m." He said with a clear voice, clenched his hands together and fixed his eyes on me.

I remained silent and nodded instead while observing every movement on his body language.

"As you know, we need so much information from you as possible we get," He then explained. "Anything can lead us to the murder. So… tell me what happened overnight's incident."

Silence swept between us for several moments. It felt like hours when I closed my optics, summoning the memories together in place.

"What do you remember?" the inspector went on, and then allowing a long pause in patience to take place between us. The first memory I saw was the snowstorm. Then the streets I drove through to find the parking area, and the darkness. I open up my optics and fixed them on him like an order directly from me as he fell into silence. Only our breaths were heard in the room while the tension swept between us.

"It was very dark," I started to tell after a more than a minute of silence. "It snowed a lot too. I arrived here before 03:00 a.m."

"Okay," A simple and neutral reply came from him.

"I was very exhausted after driving the whole day without taking a break."

"You seems not coming from here, Mr. Oldfield. I suppose you're traveling?"

"Yes, I've traveled all way from the west side of USA… and I don't remember how long time it has been since I'd left there."

"I see. So when you arrived did you saw something? Any suspiciously you might think?"

Dead silence. It swept in me, commanding me to fall into a tensed silence that felt uncomfortable. I closed my optics by force when the memory of the figure appeared in front of me, and forced open them quickly again to stare at him unblinking.

"I remember I saw something," I went on as the memory became clearer. "A very dark figure; it walked through the snowfall and avoided the lights."

The inspector then unexpectedly rose up from the chair as he held his gaze on me like a hawk spying on its prey. "Go on. Any details you may remember?"

Sensing the tension from him as he stared at me in search for clues, reading his face and eye movements told me that he must know familiar details on pressed body language.

"None I'm afraid. The only thing I can tell is he was completely dark," I replied calm although feeling pressed inside. "And I've watched from long distance… then I lost him of sight."

"I see. So what happened after you lost the figure of sight?" Wayne went on with his questions after he sank down on the chair.

"A gunshot; I heard it a moment after I've lost him and then a scream from a woman," I continued. "I jumped out from my truck and running through the streets when I heard more gunshots and screams."

"And more than that…?"

"When I'd reached the house, it was then I saw the perpetrator who ran away."

"Did you chase after him?"

"No, I couldn't," a heavy shrug escaped from me. "He was already gone."

"I see… can you describe how you found the bodies?" That question caused me to stare at him with wide optics and then low down my head with tightly closed optics, as the memories started to gather on place together.

"I broke through the door and then headed towards the kitchen…" I said slowly when without warning dropped the words. A pause emerged as I remained speechless with a slight open mouth plate, the silence swept through me again when I by force witnessed the brutal sight inside my processor. But it didn't last until I decided to continue. "There I found the first two bodies. Later, I ran upstairs in search for any survivors and found the third body. I did so my very best to find anyone else…"

"And the child," Wayne then wondered about her, "How did you find her?"

"I was about to leave the house to call for help when I heard something walking downstairs…" Just then the memory of the child suddenly showed in front of me. Waves of shivering nerves spread over my spinal column, radiated out through shoulders and thighs. Forcing me to hold my breath and become unmovable like I froze up in time, forcing myself to glare down on the floor.

"Is anything all right?" Wayne questioned concerned.

"Look, chief inspector," I then moved my optics up as I leaned over the table. "Somehow, the perpetrator did get in and then quickly out without breaking through the windows. I know this because I'd found no traces left behind from him."

He didn't reply instantly. He placed a hand on his chin as he mumbled for a couple of minutes when a knock was heard from the door, which catches our attention by surprise. The door open up and a man stepped in, wearing a thick winter coat and black jeans. He appeared younger than him and me, perhaps middle of his thirties. He has a very square but small face, pale by exhaustion. On his right hand he carried a file folder. My first thought was he can be another inspector in lower rank below Inspector Robinson.

Wayne stared at the man surprised. "You're early, Hugh. Have you any news from the Forensic team?"

"No sir," The man known as Hugh answered as he walked to his chief huskily, the walrus mustache had frozen up into tiny icicles. "But we've got the result about the identities of the victims. Also the medical examiner will shortly perform the autopsies."

The man handed over the folder when a jingling sound rang. Immediately he put his hand in the pocket of the coat and picked up his mobile phone, and left the room with the phone pressed against his ear.

"Oh… so it was them." A sad face shaped once Wayne sat down and opened the folder.

"What is it?" I asked, holding my optics at him. He held his gaze on it for several moments while he checked through.

"Such a sad thing," he sighed and moved his head to look on me. "The victims are the Hamilton family."

_Hamilton,_ I thought when he laid the file in front of me on the table and let me to take it.

The first I saw was an identity profile with a large photo of the carrier. A pale, lifeless and empty face with closed eyes; she looked be in a peaceful sleep with the lightly brown hair. There I found the name of her identity: Susannah Hamilton. Mother of three, forty-three years old and moved recently for a couple of months ago with her children.

A second profile soon followed up. This one was the teen girl: Anne. Seventeen years old. She shares her carrier's high cheek bones, yet she has her differences like the dark, shoulder-long hair and little rounder cheeks on her oval face. Minutes later, I watched the third and last profile of the boy: Jonathan. Sixteen years old; sharing the same high cheekbones but more manly on the oval face with those thick eyebrows and the dark blonde, fairy hair.

Like his sister, he had the whole future in front of him and now they are gone for good. The sourly feeling got worse while I read through the file, punching like fists hitting against the walls in my tank. I felt haunted by watching the lifeless faces of the victims, feeling they're watching behind me. Then without any warning an image flashed in front of me; the child. It took not long before I've found her profile.

"Naomi…" I said the child's name. Rising up my gaze from the profile and put it on the table. "About the girl, inspector, what will happen to her?"

"Mr. Oldfield, we've contacted a child psychologist from Albany," He explained with same clear and calm tone of voice. "A specialist within children eyewitnesses in crime cases; she will arrive here soon in couple of hours if the weather is stable today."

"Understood," A simple answer escaped from me when the door knocked again. Wayne quickly rose up from the chair as the door open up and his colleague approached him with rush.

"Sir, the girl has awakened," When I heard him saying those words, my spark started to pulse wildly under my throat. At same time Wayne grabbed the tape recorder and lifted it up close to his mouth.

"The interview is terminated and will resume before afternoon." He spoke to the recorder, then switched it off and laid it in his pocket. He shot his gaze at me that told me to follow. I didn't hesitate but directly rise up on my legs and followed them straightaway.

* * *

What I thought it would take time took not long as I expected when we stepped in the room. The same female policeman was with the child. She sat on the edge of the bed with a hanging head, and the thick blanket wrapped around her like a protective cloak. I hurried to her, placing myself before her and kneeled down. Her legs lay on cross under the nightdress.

"Little one," I said, and again she avoided optic contact with me. Not a single word came from her as she moved her head away.

"Did she say anything?" Wayne turned to the policeman. She shook her head in response; uncertainness was visible on her face as she tried to explain to him.

By then Hugh kneeled down next to me without I noticed him directly. When I did, he already noticed her avoiding of optic contact and turned his gaze on me in search for answers before he raise straight up. I rose up my right hand to lay it on her shoulder which, by my very surprise, she didn't react this time.

"Naomi, talk with me," I tried to get her communicate but as I feared she never responded. Something told me that whatsoever I try with my best she's not responding back. Is she speechless? But if so, why does she avoid optic contact? What lays on her that no one can see it on her appearance? Whatever it is, I'll find it out.

"Sir, are there any clothes to the kid?" Wayne shot his gaze to Hugh, who was standing by the doorway ready to leave. "I can hurry home and take some clothes from my kids."

"Yes, yes, Hugh," He replied with a nodding head, allowing him with his permission. "And be quick back here!"

By then Hugh was already gone. Eventually he and the policeman left when someone called them. With the door shut I shrugged in relief. The atmosphere gave a calmly sense of loneliness that felt peacefully in the moment. Laying my optics on the child, I lift up my hand from Naomi's shoulder to caress her cheek.

But when I'd made the slightest touch, without any warning, she used both of her arms to grasp my elbow and bite my wrist. It happened so fast that I didn't manage to predict until I felt her sharp dentas as her grasp tightened. Quickly as I tried to grasp her she released her mouth, and started to slam against my chassis while she whined angrily in protest. The blanket flew backwards behind her back as she snatched forward to scratch against my hologram skin. Naomi was quick as her arms swung everywhere as she avoided me and make difficult to catch her up.

"Stop it," I make an order, only turned to be useless while trying catching her unpredictable arms. "Stop it Naomi!"

It only goes to worse when she started to scream in rage. Suddenly Naomi chopped right on my cheek and punctuated holes through the skin. Warm Energon colored as human blood flowed down in thin floods, and leaving a small but quite nasty bite wound. Then she scratched on my face like a pissed cat. Scarred with white scratch marks all over my face and the bite wound that burned like the pit, I felt my patience sudden drop to nearly crack up into rage too fast.

I had enough!

The cooking frustration warmed up me. The wound burned worse by the increasing heat on my cheek, sending pain signals to tell how badly it was. I felt myself reaching the limit to withstand myself from outburst. But at same time I can't harm a human being, especially a human child. But despite all, it's never easy to hold back when you're reaching your own limits. Actions before mind happen easily. As it happens, after less than four minutes of struggling, I finally grasped both of her hands tightly and held them far from me.

"**Naomi! Knock it off!**"

I couldn't help myself to yell right at her. It was then she suddenly stopped up. No whine or movement; it was like time had stopped and froze her up like a stature. A complex silence surrounded between us with our breathing as the only sound. But as it occurred, it lasted not long until she screamed out in panic. In reaction as I released her, she flew up on her legs and run away screaming. But she didn't run to the door.

Instead she ran to the right corner next to the bed and curled up into a tiny ball. Her hands pressed against the ears, and the knees pressed against her chest. Her screaming died quickly down into loudly sobs. Hearing her cries stabbed my spark into two pieces. Slowly I raised straight up, heading to the crying child and kneeled down beside her.

"Little one…" I whispered with a comforting tone in my voice. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean yelling at you."

Somehow without any reason, she made herself only smaller as she hide her face in her knees and started to rock back and forth. When I raised my hand and laid it on her shoulder to caress gently she stopped her rocking to an halt. However, a small sound escaped from her that sounded like she's in pain. It triggered my spark to alert up.

Lifting up my hand and dragged up the nightdress to see what lies below, I was not prepared for what I saw next. Her whole body was skinny with nearly visible ribs sticking out and yellow-brownish bruises that covered from her shoulder downwards to the hips. The bruises appeared old when I spotted two large, fresh ones in pale blue on right shoulder blade.

_What have happened to you, my child, _I mentally asked shocked. Totally disturbed over the fresh bruises I dragged down the dress gently to cover them off my sight. _Who made these bruises on you?_

Naomi's sobbing cries slowly died down when the door opened up with a slam, which it make me to jerk up in reaction and shot my gaze over my shoulder. It was Wayne that rushed in, panting like a dog.

"Is anything all right here?" he asked under his panting between concern and seriousness, and turned very silent when he spotted me. His face changed disturbed, questionable and shocked at same time. "What happened on you face?"

"She bit me," I replied, touching on the wound and discovered both the tops of index and middle digits were covered in Energon. He was already before me when I rose up to check on my wound. Shaped a disgusted grimace with a hiss escaping from his clenched teeth, he then shot his gaze down on the child and returned back on me.

"You'll have to stitch it up; it looks badly," he said, and then kneeled down next to Naomi. I never managed to warn before he already touched her.

As I thought, the child took charge against him by grasping his wrist and bite on his hand. Wayne exclaimed out a human swearword as he tried rip apart from her mouth, which she's not going to let him go free. Very quickly I swept my arms around her chest behind in attempt to pull her. Naomi started to kick and beat wildly in screaming protest as I lifted her up, walking backwards. Beating fists against the ribs, kicking legs against abdominal area as she swung her head side to side. I had no other choice but to sit down on the edge of the bed.

Having a very angry and defensive human child on my knees wasn't an easy task as you may think. She used all of her strength as well intensified her screaming even worse, and neither going to be stopped. Her sharp screaming brought more than just a nasty headache and bleeding audio sensors; people started to gathering outside the room to see what's going on here. Better ignore them before Naomi make more mess than I can deal with.

"Naomi, please stop," I pleaded coolly to hide my rising frustration, thinking too fast in search for any way to stop her. Her arms were everywhere, swinging around with twisted claw-like digits as she made scratch attacks in the air and her kicking hit harder.

It felt like her fighting would last longer than I'm able to hold when I felt suddenly her shaking body getting heavily exhausted, and sensing her need to catch her breath desperately as she started panting and gasping for air. Just then her arms finally fell heavily down and her kicks reached its end. Also the screaming replaced to the loudly cries.

I eased my grasp, even release right arm free to sweep round the very exhausted child, and leant her right side against my chassis. Naomi's red face was completely wet in tears. Large floods of tears flowed downwards her blushed cheeks from her tightly closed eyes.

"Naomi, it's all right," whispering under the dryly and hacking cries, I caressed her shoulder gently and started rocking side to side in slow waves. "I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere."

A gentle hand lay on my shoulder, catching my attention to shot up a glare and meet the eyes of Wayne. He looked at me relived without saying a word. He gradually raised his head to stare at his curious men seriously, and ordered his men to get back on work. I've soon forgot them as I returned my focus on Naomi, who gradually stopped crying and found her fallen asleep on my chassis. And I never left my gaze from the tiny rounded face afterwards.

* * *

**Two and half hours later**

I'd stayed with Naomi the whole time until she woke up after half an hour, and then helped her putting the outfits Hugh brought. A blue sweater with red-and-white zigzags markings, a pair of dark blue old jeans and a pair of socks that suited her perfectly in size. Also Hugh was very kind to give winter children outfits too; a red jacket with yellow reflexes and furred hood, a pair of black trousers, red gloves and a white-and-black woolen cap. The bite wound got stitched up after a quick visit on the town's local clinic, covered with plasters.

Still I cannot help myself feeling worried over Naomi as I watched thoughtfully over her sitting on the floor, surrounding in total silence. The weather outside had changed from clear into a gray snowstorm that doesn't know where to end. During these hours as I've observed her, I found myself completely speechless.

I'd called her name four times, and the child didn't lift up her gaze or walked to me. She just sat there in completely silence, making slow hand movements with her thumb, index and middle digit on the floor like she's drawing invisible patterns. Also I'd attempt to approach her once, however when I've reached her close enough, she stand straight up and then walked to the corner next to the door. When I went back, she surprised me more as she walked back to the exact spot.

And then later she did make strange hand waving. From slowly swinging movements to hyperactive claps against her knees, and repeating clawing on her upper arms and shoulders. All this repeated and lasted for fifteen minutes until Naomi suddenly stopped up, and then sat unmovable gazing far away in her own world. And none on these events I'd heard her making any noises at all.

_Unreachable._

The only repeating word my processor got up as new questions created from the core. Why doesn't she speak? Why acting so odd? Why? And what is the cause? I was so stuck in my twisting thoughts that there was no way to broke them away, until the silence got broken by a knock from the door and opened up. Naomi was quick to stand up as Wayne stepped in and a large curvy woman followed right behind him, wearing a fox-orange winter jacket and worn jeans.

"So… this is the child?" she asked to him bitterly, the face turned and stared at me with irritation behind the glasses. The short hair was straw-colored and the corners of her mouth were getting deep by age.

Wayne nodded in response silently. He shot his gaze quickly to me, pleading me to take Naomi. He knew it's better to take the safe way than risking the psychologist's safety against the child's sharp dentas, and I won't hesitate to risk myself get bitten again. I reached her and grasped on her hand gently. But Naomi tossed quickly up hand from my hold and grabbed the jacket sleeve instead. Even more surprisingly was she didn't whine out, nor took charge against me.

It took not long before we stood outside the interview room. The child psychologist told us it may take an hour for her interview with Naomi. Sitting leant against the opposite wall I felt nothing else but extreme concern over the result, and staring up on the ceiling inside an invisible shell of isolation from the world. The thoughts twisted once again inside my processor as more and new ones emerged from the core.

"You're worried?"

The thoughts instantly swept away as I shot daggered optics on the standing inspector as he stared down at me like a wondering owl. Moving my gaze away, I felt not sure how to say back and same time not wanting to speak right now. Holding my gaze on the closed door in deep concern, I hope whatever happens behind the door she's safe from harm.

The wait felt take hours that passed slower and slower. As every passing minute passed by I began feeling anxious for not knowing what's going on inside there, fearing what the most possible outcome will be.

But the wait lasted not as long as expected when the door suddenly opened up and the psychologist had hurry between her legs to walk out, still make sure she'd closed the door. According my chronometer it has been only twenty minutes since the psychologist took Naomi in the interview room. That's surprisingly early. Unless…

"Inspector Robinson," she said sharply as she stood in front of him, and I gathered in. "We need to talk, privately."

"Sure…" was all he said uncertainly. Then she turned her gaze on me, fortunately it was a fast one within seconds. But the eyes told me the truth.

_She knows now, _I thought as the anxious feeling reached at its climax, causing me to feel nausea over the result she will tell.

* * *

"So tell us what you know from the child."

It was Wayne who spoke. We were in his office which lay nearby the personnel department. A very structured room I've got to say, actually better than mine own back in base. Two file cabinets in steel stood on left wall, and a large and broad shelve in wood on the opposite wall. Behind the desk with the office chair sat a large windowpane. The walls were neutral gray colored and beside the computer on the desk stood two photo frames. The psychologist sat on the couch while I and Robinson sat on the chairs with the rounded table between us.

"Mr. Robinson," the woman started to speak. "I'm afraid there is nothing I can do to help you. The child is just impossible for me."

You can't just imagine how shocked and confused we become by what she said. The pause between us lasted in the air for less than two minutes until it broke off by a shrug from Wayne as he flew his head back, staring up on the ceiling before fixed them on her again.

"Listen here now. You've traveled all the way from Albany here to speak with her," he stared at her, the tone in his voice very serious. "And now you're telling there is nothing you can do?"

"Mr. Robinson, you don't understand what I'm talking about," she defended back sharply and he fell into silence like an obedient dog, showing submission towards her as he's allowing her to speak out without interrupting. "There is no way to get her to speak – _**Chough!**_"

We remained silent both of us when she got interrupted by a sudden chough attack. Covering her mouth with a hand while the coughing pressed up her lungs harshly, but fortunately lasted short. After that she cleared her throat and continued.

"I've got to say this. The child shows clear evidence…"

"What kind for clear evidence if I may ask?" It was I who cut in. She turned her sharpen eyes and daggered them at me, looked surprised for a moment until she sighed out and sank down on the couch.

"Mr. Oldfield… the child is autistic."

* * *

Oh dear… **SUSPENSE ALERT!** What will happen next? How will Optimus and Inspector Robinson take the shocking result? There are plenty of questions in the air. I hope what your guys like so far and really appreciate your support and encouragement!


	3. More questions than answers

The viking is still alive! Honestly I don't feel proud about this one, mostly for one certain reason. I guess your guys want to see the autopsies, how our victims died by the injuries, what kind for weapon the killer used and what else have done to them? You got it with one warning for nudity and mention for organs but will not show them of course. Don't like it, then get out of here NOW. The quote below is a very random one I just pick up, not important deal.

Totally forgotten to say this disclaimer at start of the first chapter: I don't own Transformers, Hasbro own them

* * *

**Chapter 3 – More questions than answers**

_If I want to succeed in helping a person towards a specific goal, I have to find her where she is and start from there. _

_The one who cannot fools herself when she thinks she can help others. _

_To help someone, I must certainly understand more than he does, but first and foremost… understand what he understands._

_- Sören Kirkegaard._

* * *

Puzzled, surprised and most of all confused was I, like I'm lost in a thick fog and not knowing where to go on which direction. Which shall I choose? Go left or right? That's how I felt for not knowing what to do next. Stuck in time that goes slow-motion, I can only breathe in and out and stare at the woman with unblinking optics. The atmosphere had changed faster than I can predict. The psychologist said a word I've never heard before in my life. Autistic. What does it mean?

"Is the child autistic?" Wayne asked. The surprised tone in his voice caused me to look at him, he held his gaze on the woman without noticing my presence. His eyebrows stood raised up and then frowned with three thin winkles across his forehead.

"Yes. Do you know what it means?" the woman replied. To my horror, he shook his head with an uncertain look.

"Pardon me to ask," I then interrupted and got their gazes straight on me. "But if you can be so kind, please explain us what it is."

She didn't say instantly as I thought. Instead the woman fell into a long thoughtful moment that held long, almost like she forced herself into silence and go lost in her thoughts. I began feeling frustrated over her silence, taking her time to think and it caused only my frustration to worse. I have no time to wait. I want to know _**NOW! **_Several minutes later the psychologist sighed out and finally spoke up. "Before I explain, I give you a question."

"What kind for question you want to ask?"

"Have you ever heard about autism before?"

You had no doubt to burst out in laughter if you'd saw how totally confused I become, and I was certainly sure Wayne took it hard too. We stared at her widely like two dumb, silent slaggers. The word danced in twister inside my processor as the surroundings dissolved away, fading into an unrealistic world. The word echoed inside my audio sensors far inside the core. It sounded mystical, like a whispering female voice hidden in the shadows. It felt like it had continued forever if the woman didn't chough again. It broke the silence, clearing up the surroundings and I pulled back to reality.

"As I thought…" she muttered raspy after the hacking coughing while making herself comfortable on the couch, and release the tension away from the large body.

"You, Miss…" Wayne then said.

"Matilda Blackshaw," She expressed her name.

"Miss Blackshaw, we have no idea of what you're talking about," he went on. "So explain to us what autism is right now. We have no time to sit here all day."

"All right all right! I'll tell you…" Matilda hissed, moving her gaze back and forth on me and Wayne and crossed her arms on her chest. "You see… autism is very difficult for me to explain in an easy way. I can sit here all day and explain a hundred times for both of you, but I'm certain for none of you will ever understand a single thing."

None of us replied, or wanted interrupt her while she went on. We prepared ourselves.

"Autism is a complex neurodevelopmental disability. What I can tell is people with autism have issues with communication, social interaction skills and imagination. A clear autistic feature is the lack of eye contact. Early detection, investigation and diagnosis are important to help children with autism in time. Sadly enough to tell this, Mr. Robinson and Mr. Oldfield, the disability is incurable and it stays for lifetime... which unfortunately I can tell there is only one thing. The child maybe will never tell what really happened when the murder of her family occurred."

Everything changed on that moment. I couldn't move, nor speak, nor thinking at all. Absolutely was I never prepared – or better say _ready _– once the psychologist finished all. I understood nothing, had no idea as a wave of thoughts burst up and filled up with more questions than I've already had enough to think through. I just sat still with wide open optics, not knowing what to say when the picture of Naomi appeared in front of my optics. It made me to realize the truth. Her odd behavior, her anger and being unreachable and silent one… it's all because of autism. But there is a problem. As a Cybertronian I've never heard of it before. There is no recorded history about it in Cybertronian history. No knowledge or experiences that pass through generations. Honestly, I've maybe never encountered one Cybertronian who had it.

"It must be a way to get something from her," Wayne said while he rose up from the chair. Matilda stayed on her place like a stature.

"Aren't you listening?" The psychologist snapped with a sharp but calm tone in her voice.

"You can't just give up easily. You're a child psychologist and you're here to get something from the child. You must have some methods to get her speak?"

"Yes I know, but dealing with an autistic child is a whole different story than you can think about. And I cannot force a child to speak directly out, it makes only worse."

Wayne sighed disappointed, stroke a hand over the scalp and sat again on the chair. Forced to rethink everything again and make a risking decision that can turn the investigation to a dead end. I noticed him making movements on the lips, spelling silent words until Wayne shrugged down his shoulders with a sigh with closed eyes.

"This makes the investigation more difficult than I thought. An autistic child as the only survivor to the brutal murder of her family… Only God knows what will happen next," He mumbled.

I've heard enough. There got to be one way to solve this. I know there must be at least one way. They can't just give up and thinking there is no hope left, unlike me who will not give up until I've found a way to get Naomi speak with me. I will do anything for Naomi's family if they'll ever get peace once for all. I moved my head back to stare up on the ceiling as the pictures of the dead flashed inside my optics, demanding me to make a promise.

_I swear I will hunt the perpetrator down and pull him to justice for his crime! And I promise this: no matter what happens, I'll protect Naomi! _

"Are you all right, Mr. Oldfield?" Matilda asked suddenly, I nearly jumped up and stared at her. My spark pounded under the rib plates, shaken breaths.

"I'm fine…" that was a lie. I found myself uncomfortable over the sudden broken silence, and then turned my gaze to inspector who too looked surprised. "What will you do with Naomi? Have you contacted any relatives to her?"

"We do our best to find any relatives, Peter, but I cannot promise you for certain. We'll contact the Social service if we don't get any relative, and they surely will find a family who can look after her meanwhile the investigation goes –" he said but got cut by me.

"No."

Both he and Matilda got surprised once they heard my answer, staring at me in confusion.

"What do you mean no if you mind me to ask why?" Wayne then questioned with an unexpected tone of suspicion, held the same hawk look at me.

"I want take her to my care," I replied with a serious look, and again surprised the inspector. He couldn't speak for further several seconds before shaking away the confusion and staring at me with inquiring and skeptical eyes, reading on me in search for doubt.

"Are you absolutely sure about it?" he gave a second question, narrowing his gaze. I nodded determined over my decision. I knew I made the right choice.

"Yes. It's better and _safer _if she stays with me. Otherwise…"

"Otherwise?"

"The perpetrator might return to search after the last survivor. If he finds her, there is no doubt he will kill her. Sending her away is too dangerous, Wayne."

I regretted in an instant once I'd said that, frightening the inspector and psychologist though they don't show it. But I was right about it. It's possible the perpetrator will come back, searching after Naomi and no doubt kill her. Neither Wayne nor the psychologist spoke a word as they looked on each other. A worried and thoughtful frown appeared on Wayne's face as he put a hand under the chin, thinking what was best for Naomi's safety. The psychologist moved the worried gaze down on the table. It lasted at least three long minutes before the inspector sighed out defeated.

"All right then… Naomi shall put into your care and protection, Peter," he said. "But with one conclusion from me."

"And that is?" I asked.

"If something happens to both of you, I'll contact the Social service so they can help you."

I nodded with a single nod.

"Here's my mobile number," he finished and gave a police card with the mobile number to me.

Again I nodded when Matilda coughed again, though it wasn't a real cough as she did it on purpose to drag my attention at her. Then she shot daggered eyes on me, the disagreed look on her face told me enough.

"I'm not so sure you're capable…" Matilda huffed skeptical.

"Look," I pointed a digit on my scarred face and the covered bite wound. "Naomi made this on me. I can deal with that…"

Muffing and muttering Matilda moved her gaze away from me in distaste. Just then a ringtone was heard, it came from Wayne. He was quick to pick it up the mobile from the pocket and answered, while talking he rose up from the chair and headed towards his desk. I followed him with the gaze, watching how Wayne took a small notepad out of the desk drawer below the computer, then quickly grabbed an ink pen and wrote down on a page. The call between them lasted less than two minutes when he closed the mobile and headed back to us, but not before he put the notepad back in the drawer.

"Inspector, have you found the journals and medical certificate of the child's diagnosis from the crime scene?" Suddenly Matilda asked to Wayne.

"Pardon me?" He stared at her, a confused frown shaped on him.

"I need her journals about her condition," she began to say, "To get a clear picture of the child whole. What I can tell from my observation of the child is she shows a quite severe autistic behavior. But I cannot be sure until I've got them and convinced it. Also I think they can be useful for the investigation."

"Not so far what I can tell, Matilda but I can insure you the Forensic team is still on the crime scene. I'll contact them to search after her journals," He answered her question.

"Good… Ah yes!" Suddenly Matilda exclaimed. Wayne nearly jumped up by shock, looking at her very surprised like a child unexpected for the biggest surprise. "Inspector, can you give me a paper and a pen?"

Without asking why, he did as she told him and gave her a page he ripped from the notepad and the same ink pen. Then she wrote down and gave the note to me. On it stood a sloppy written name: Hilde De Clercq. The name sounded unfamiliar here, it must be European.

"What's this?" I looked at the psychologist with wondering optics, giving it back to her when she raised both her hands.

"Keep it. You will need it later," it was all she said before rising up of the couch, was about to leave when Wayne threw up on his legs and hurried after her. I folded the note into a roll, put it in my pocket and hurried straight after them.

* * *

After Matilda left the police station, I and Wayne went downstairs to the bottom floor, heading back to the interview room. I was first to reach the door, open it and hurried into the room. There, on the left corner far from the table, sat Naomi with her back against me. She had her right hand on the wall, caressing it with long, smooth movements in a large circle and she rocked back and forth. I slowly approached her and this time I got surprised once again. She didn't move up and walk away like she did back in the room before the psychologist arrived. Instead Naomi stayed on her place, stuck with invisible chains attached to the floor. I was as closest when I noticed something. Naomi's gaze followed not on the circling movement but on the shadow of the arm. She also rolled her head round and round like a second circle, copying the movement along the rocking back and forth.

"Hi Naomi…" I greeted. Zero response from Naomi.

I hunched behind her while she continued without knowing I was right behind her. Learned by the lesson of the outburst earlier, I prepared myself as I took a risk to touch her hand. I pressed my hand against the tiny hand, stopped the movement. But this time was whole different. Naomi did nothing, only to stop up as tension pressed her to stay still and held her breath. But then Naomi became angry and started clawing against my hand. She continued doing it even after I'd released the pressure from her hand, and then made another bite attack against my wrist again. I had to rise up to avoid further bite attacks, trying ignoring and standing out against the biting child, who took charge against the right leg. Biting like a hyena against bone, cracking through and shaking violently on its grip. But she gave easily up. I took a deep breath, then sighed out to calm down while feeling the arching pain after the multiple bite attacks. I looked down at Naomi who had sat down.

"Come, Naomi. It's time to go," I said calm. Still zero response. Naomi sat like nothing happened a moment ago and returned to the rocking movement with wrapped arms round her legs. "Rise up." I commanded clear and determined without needed raise my voice.

She obeyed immediately, was quick to stand up and turned around with her gaze stuck on the floor. I took her hand, and like last time she tossed up it up and grabbed on my jacket sleeve. We had no need for rush to leave. I'd rather chose take it easy and simple for us than hurrying out, making things uncomfortable for the little child. Wayne waited in patience when we came out, closing the door behind us and we went towards the staircase in gentle pace. None of us spoke to each other during our road until, once we reached the room, Wayne stopped to a halt. I noticed nothing, was focused to hurry up, put the new winter outfits on Naomi and get out. The snowstorm was over, although it was pretty gray outside and it gave a sense of it will be dark soon. It was then after I'd put them on and we were on our way towards the entrance when a voice made me to jerk up. I moved my head over the shoulder to see the inspector hurried towards us.

"Just don't leave the town," he said. "I'm not done with you yet."

"I'm not leaving here… Not yet," I replied sharp. "I will find the responsible one and who he is. Until then I'm not going anywhere."

That was my last words before I and Naomi went out.

* * *

**Wayne**

I watched them disappear when I allowed my thoughts return back, and especially my questions about the stranger Peter Oldfield. I knew there was something on him once I saw him. He's nothing else I've meet. The voice especially was deeper, like he sounded older than he appeared on outside. And those sky-blue eyes he has, they are not ordinary to see around here. They seem glowing. No, no that's just my imagination. I was quite impressed over how he dealt with the child's outburst earlier, the way he handled her rage and how he stood out against her biting, clawing, kicking and beating. There are so many questions. Who is he? Where does he come from? How did he end up here?

"Who are you stranger?" I asked myself quiet, wondering and worrying too. Will he be able to take care of the autistic child? It will be a big challenge for him. My hesitance filled up inside. I'm hoping they will be all right.

"Sir?"

Surprised I jerked up, swung around and faced my colleague Hugh. He jerked backwards with widen surprised eyes. It took less than seconds before I understood it was him and relaxed down.

"Hugh, don't scare me like that again," I said harsh to the newly forwarded detective inspector, but then soften up for knowing he didn't mean to scare me. I know he have a lot to go through as a detective inspector, after many years of hard work in the police and finally arrived on the criminal police department, his dream came true. Like we were old friends I rested a hand on his shoulder. "Have something to report?"

"The medical examiner wants us to come now. She's done with the autopsies," he reported, plainly as always to say without rush in his voice every time he reports to me.

"Okay," I gave a simple answer to him, and we hurried straight ahead to the autopsy room.

* * *

The autopsy room was very neat with fluorescent lights. A very clean concrete floor, four stainless-steel tables, red plastic boxes according to the size under the sink, two hand basins there the autopsy technician made sure there was constant supply of spotlessly clean hand towels. The dissection table had been sluiced down and dried off. The only thing you can think about death was the long line of ID-marked transparent plastic jars, containing gray or light brown bits from many kinds of internal organs, preserved in formalin so that tests can be carried out on them at a later stage. And the lying bodies on the tables with thin blankets over them. The medical examiner, Dr. Olivia Hayden, stood on one of the hand basins and seemed washing clean the tools she used during the autopsies. Wearing a blue surgical gown, white rubber gloves and old clogs on the feet, the rather small and brown-skinned woman turned around. Her black, short hair was held up in a tiny pony tail behind her neck. The ageing face diamond shaped with half-thin cheeks, half-tired eyes in exhaustion after examining every injury and inside the bodies.

"Precisely in time as always, Wayne," she greeted with a small joke, standing next to the body of Susannah Hamilton. I replied nothing. Instead I pulled a small smile when I passed by her to get a pair of rubber gloves on. Then I put down my hand, picked up the tape recorder and gave it to Hugh, who stood less than a meter from the table. He switched it on.

"So what have you found that can tell about our victims?" I inquired.

"Okay, let's start with this one," Olivia chose Susannah to begin with.

She lifted up the blanket to show me the injuries on the whole naked body under the fluorescent lights. Gosh what a beauty she was; a slender body shape despite those awful short wounds, the stitched Y-incision across her body and the badly damaged breasts that the wounds were held together with rough sutures. There were several knife wounds that ran across her chest, arms and abdomen. Each large wound was held together with the same type of sutures. The knife that was stabbed through the heart had been taken off. My gaze ran down over the upper body when I spotted plenty of small markings both on the arms, and then three large bruises on the abdomen. I found myself bothered to see Susannah's body lying on the cold table, damaged and gone for good despite she was clean, sluiced down away the blood.

Olivia pointed on some quite large wounds above the breasts. "I've counted up to thirty wounds –"

"Thirty? That's a lot!" Hugh exclaimed amazed with a whistle. His voice caused the room to echo. I shot daggered eyes on him and put him to silence. I then returned to Olivia, made a nodding movement to allow her continue. I grabbed the right arm, lifted it up and took a closer look on the markings.

"I counted up to thirty wounds. Most of them on the chest, arms and some back on the shoulders. The rib cage is pretty damaged; every rib bones are split and cracked through," she continued, showing me more on the wounds on the shoulders by lifting the body to side-lying. And three to four larger bruises lay across the spine. The injuries created an awful picture of how the mother died in brutal way. I listened on patiently while Olivia went on. "The blows cause severe bleeding on the lungs, aorta, heart and liver. She had no chance to survive. Not even for five minutes."

"What about the knife on the chest?" I gave the question. Without answering me, Olivia hurried towards a small table next to the hand basins there she picked up a plastic jar with the knife inside. The knife appeared to be a large kitchen knife, made for cutting through meat. She held it up in the air.

"This one is not the killer weapon," she said. Both I and Hugh got surprised.

"Not the killer weapon?" Hugh gave a short question.

"It doesn't match the wounds," she replied.

"Not matching the wounds?" It was my turn to ask. I held my gaze on the clean shining blade, ignoring totally on Hugh who looked curious.

"The wounds are broader and deeper, which it indicates the weapon is a broad knife. My guess is the killer put it on the chest afterwards. Also the wounds on the arms indicate there has been a fight between Susannah and the perpetrator. The bruises from the abdomen tells me that she must get a kick from front by the killer, which she must've stumbled backwards and hit against the stove pretty hard enough to create those ones on her shoulders. They appeared after death," Olivia went on.

"Was the daughter first to die?" I suddenly asked without thinking, instantly regretted and found myself bothered over the thought while I'd put the arm down.

A pause was held in the air between me and the doctor, who slowly moved the body to lying on the back and covered the blanket over. She turned to the next body: the body of Anne Hamilton. Once the body revealed up, I felt more bothered and nauseous. The younger the victim is the worse is the responsibility. Children don't deserve to die. The perpetrator must be seriously sick in mind. I hated those types of people. They should stay behind bars instead warding around on the streets with loaded guns to shoot everyone without any reason. That person should have isolated away from the rest of the world for a long time ago. The body has only one wound that lay below the chest.

"Anne died instantly by a single gunshot," Olivia broke the pause and continued. She pointed on the gunshot wound that got stitched up after her examination. "The bullet went through the liver and the gallbladder, and that caused a bleed into the abdominal cavity. My guess is she turned around just in time to face the perpetrator and he shot her. However, I found no exit hole…"

"Did you find the bullet?" Hugh gave another short question after her.

"Yes. I've already sent it to the lab," Olivia answered and covered the blanket over the body. "It's rather small one. I'm guessing it comes from a small gun or pistol."

We then turned to the last, well-trained body of Jonathan Hamilton. He was lying on the stomach because all the injuries were on his back. The wounds along with the massive stitched wound on the shoulder laid spread across the spine. I made a quick count on the wounds; ten short knife wounds. My first thought was he got attacked from behind through speculation.

"The wounds don't match either with the kitchen knife… Wayne, there is something you have to see," Olivia took a computer slide and clipped it on the X-ray box. Hugh and I had to come closer to see. We looked at the images in silence while the doctor's finger traced a dark area on the pictures.

"You can see the split in the skull here. And the subdural bleed. Right here. The blow might have not been fatal but it could cause unconsciousness. He could possibly survive from the blow but I'm not sure if he might recover by the damage. Then, after the blow, he received the blows. I think the person used the grip of the knife to blow him. Bang!" she finished as she smacked herself to illustrate the blow.

"So… the killer used two weapons: a broad knife and a small gun. The girl got shot with a single gunshot, the mother fought with the killer, got stabbed thirty times and the boy was attacked from behind, received a blow on his head that caused him unconsciousness, and then got stabbed. But there is something I don't get it here… Why the hand?" I corrected every detail of the deaths when my gaze went straight to the arm with the missing hand. Hugh stood behind me with the recorder above the table.

"I have no idea, Wayne. Whatever the reason is, the person hadn't time to chop off the other one. The hand was removed after death," The medical examiner shrugged with a shaking head. I moved my gaze over my shoulder to face Hugh's wondering gaze. The hand was not found on the crime scene, either inside or outside.

"Any fingerprints?" Hugh asked.

Olivia shrugged her shoulders, a troubled grimace shaped on her lips. "There are some decent marks around the wrists both on Susannah and Jonathan, but as far as I can see, there are no prints. I think the lab will say the person who cut the hand off, and fought against the mother, was wearing gloves."


End file.
